Chapter 8 : The Man Who Should Be Dead

Chapter 8: The Man Who Should Be Dead

Rain dripped from the man's coat, pooling at his feet.

Daniel stood frozen in the doorway, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

This man—this stranger standing before him—had the same face as the corpse lying inside the chapel.

The same sharp jawline. The same hollow eyes.

But he was alive.

Breathing.

And looking directly at Daniel like he knew exactly what was going through his mind.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Father."

Daniel's throat tightened.

Because that's exactly what this was.

---

The Visitor Who Knows Too Much

The man stepped forward, his presence almost too real against the storm raging outside.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" he asked.

Daniel didn't move.

His grip on the chapel door tightened. Every rational thought screamed that this was impossible.

"Who are you?" Daniel's voice was steady, but his fingers twitched at his sides.

The man raised an eyebrow.

"You already know."

Daniel's pulse pounded. No. No, he didn't.

He had never met this man before.

Had he?

A sharp, sudden throb pulsed behind Daniel's eyes. A memory—faint, fractured, slipping through his grasp.

🔹 A dimly lit room.

🔹 The feeling of something heavy in his hand.

🔹 A voice—his own—saying, "This is the last time."

🔹 A gunshot.

Daniel inhaled sharply.

No.

Not now. Not again.

---

A Conversation That Shouldn't BePossible

"Let me in, Father," the man said again.

Daniel hesitated.

He knew the smart thing to do. Close the door. Walk away.

But something about this—**about him—**felt inevitable.

Like this wasn't the first time they had spoken.

Like it wouldn't be the last.

Against his better judgment, Daniel stepped aside.

The man walked in.

---

The Corpse That Still Watches

The door shut behind them, sealing them inside the dim chapel.

The air felt thicker now.

The stranger shook off his coat, glancing around at the flickering candlelight and the shattered mirror. His gaze landed on the corpse lying in the pews.

His own face staring back at him.

Daniel swallowed. He watched closely, waiting for a reaction—shock, confusion, horror.

But instead—

The man smirked.

"Well," he said, almost amused. "I didn't think you'd actually find him this time."

Daniel's skin prickled.

"What the hell does that mean?"

The man turned back to him, his expression unreadable.

"You're getting closer."

Daniel's breath caught.

"Closer to what?"

The stranger didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his coat.

Daniel's muscles tensed, his body preparing to react—but the man didn't pull out a weapon.

Instead, he held out a second photograph.

Daniel hesitated before taking it.

And then—

His stomach dropped.

---

The Second Photograph

It was another picture of him.

Not the one from earlier. A different one.

In this photo, he wasn't standing next to the corpse. He was standing alone.

No one beside him. No second man.

Just him.

But that wasn't what made his breath stop.

It was the background.

The same location as the first photograph. The same room.

Except—

Now the walls were completely gone.

Blurred. Unformed. Like a memory disappearing.

Daniel's hands trembled.

The more he stared at the photo, the less sense it made.

The shadows seemed to move. The space around him in the image was hollow.

Like the place had never been real at all.

His chest tightened. He had been there.

Hadn't he?

He flicked his gaze back up at the man in front of him.

"What is this?" His voice was hoarse.

The man's smirk faded.

"Proof."

Daniel's grip tightened around the photo.

"Proof of what?"

A beat of silence.

Then—

"That your past isn't real."

---

The Corpse Moves

Daniel's world tilted.

"That's not possible."

The man exhaled slowly.

"You've always known something wasn't right, haven't you?"

Daniel's jaw locked.

He wanted to deny it.

But he couldn't.

The memory lapses. The shifting details. The way his past felt like something just out of reach.

The man stepped closer.

"Tell me, Father."

"How many times have you had this conversation?"

Daniel's breath hitched.

A distant echo rippled through his mind.

A whisper of a conversation he couldn't quite remember—yet felt like he had lived before.

The same setting.

The same words.

And suddenly, Daniel wasn't sure if this was the first time.

Or if this was just another version of something that had already happened.

Then—

A sound.

A wet, dragging sound.

Daniel's entire body went cold.

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned toward the corpse in the pew.

The head—which had been facing away from him—

Was now turned toward him.

Eyes open.

Staring.

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